At that, he scowls, and his jaw tightens. “I want sex.”
I nearly choke on my saliva, while he looks like he wants to punch me in the face. How the fuck does he go from saying he’s hungry to wanting sex?
Because he’s being transactional.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, screwing my eyes shut against the mounting frustration pounding through my skull. “Devon, are you telling me you want sex because you actually want food?”
He squints, lips thinning. “No.”
“Bullshit,” I shoot back. “Get out of that tree. I won’t strain my neck for this conversation.”
With startling agility, he shimmies down, landing lightly as a squirrel, chin raised. “So, sex first, then food?”
I step closer, looming over him in an attempt to intimidate, remind him who’s in charge. But he refuses to shrink away or back down.
God, I want to spank his ass, only it’s not really a punishment for him because the little shit enjoys it.
And he’s not the only one.
Nearly blew my load when turning that ass of his a deep red.
I walk back to where I was sitting and rummage through my pack. “Sex burns calories. And your skinny ass has none to spare.”
I toss him almonds and watch warily as he tears into them. Despite his gaunt features, wiry strength cords his arms. If provoked, I have no doubt he could inflict serious damage in an instant.
He inhales the almonds, not bothering to try and make them last. Swiping a hand across his mouth, he turns guarded eyes to mine. “Now the sex?”
“No, Devon.”
Shock and wariness flare in his eyes. “But . . . what do you want as payment then?”
His assumption that he owes his body in return for help squeezes my chest tighter than a damn vice grip. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I gather my things and start walking, hoping he’ll split off alone, but, deep down, a foolish part wants him nearby. Relief,like cool spring in the summer heat, washes over me when his soft footfalls trail behind.
We walk on in silence thick as smoke before he pipes up tentatively. “We gonna fuck after dinner at least?”
My shoulders slump like the fight’s gone out of ’em, because it has. I can’t fuck him anymore. Not when my heart's involved. “No more sex deals.”
“Why?”
I glance back, and there’s hesitation swirling with something more in those dark eyes. “What’d you do for food before me?”
He shrugs. “Scraps. Killed a few people. Sex seems easier. Maybe others will want me like you do.”
Red hot rage flashes through me at the thought of others using and discarding my boy.
Myboy.
“Like fuck anyone else is going to touch you.” The words tear out of me deep, low, and threatening. “You’re staying with me. End of story. I’ll teach you to find food and set traps. No whoring yourself out.”
It's a vow, a promise, powered by a stubborn streak of hope that won't fucking let go—just like the ink etched into my skin.
Fight as One, Fall as One, Rise as One.
Right here, right now, with Devon, those words stop feeling like some cruel joke and start sounding like a damn fortune cookie. Because no one touches my little psychopath but me.
He’s mine to keep safe.
